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Summary
An autumn’s chill blew into the orangery, rustling the browning leafs. Sophie should return to her quarters. But in this sanctuary of weathered glass and citrus fruits, safe in the embrace of Benedict’s arms and the blanket he’d pulled tight around her, Sophie cared very little for morning. Frankly, selfishly, she’d rather not think of the Bridgertons at all. She did not even wish to think of Benedict as a Bridgerton, if only for this one night, if only to sooth the ache in the hollow of her chest at the knowledge that, one way or another, her employment must swiftly come to an end.
Benedict, Sophie, and an extension of their conservatory date, with some words borrowed from Romeo and Juliet.
Series
- Part 3 of colour fill